


Plenty

by zoedanielle



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24084715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoedanielle/pseuds/zoedanielle
Summary: A night of drinking leads to an accidental confession
Relationships: Biggs (Compilation of FFVII)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	Plenty

It was tradition that the second night before a mission everyone would drink to their heart's content. This little tradition boosted morale and gave everyone a day to deal with the subsequent hangovers before the mission. And this night was just like the rest. The day after tomorrow, you'd be blowing up the first Mako Reactor.

You were never one to drink too much, almost never in excess. This made you an easy target for your team's playful bullying, but you didn't mind. This time, though, you were challenged. You weren't one to shy away from a challenge. 

In hindsight, it was a stupid decision. There was no way you could out-drink Barrett; he was at least three times bigger than you, so it probably took three times the liquor for him to get as drunk as you. Still, pride was one of your character flaws, so you had to try. 

At first, everyone thought you were joking. Those cheers and smiles soon vanished when you downed drink after drink. Even Barrett tried to talk you out of it once he realized you were serious, but once you put your mind to something, you were bound to finish it. 

Eventually, though, he couldn't watch you try any longer. Barrett dropped his glass on the table and admitted 'defeat.' In truth, he could've gone on longer, but you were just about wasted. 

You threw your arms up in victory, earning fake cheers from the rest of your group. It seemed as though watching you drink sobered everybody else up. They were too worried about your safety to enjoy themselves any longer. 

"Big man can't handle his liquor, huh?" You taunted. Normally, you'd never tease the boss, but the liquid courage in your veins had you acting rather ballsy. "Why don't you stick to virgin drinks for now on?”

The four other members of the group all glanced at each other, and then at Barrett, who was currently biting his tongue. This was too painful to watch, Biggs decided.

"You've had a lot, let's get you back to your place," he said, putting a hand on your shoulder. 

"I can have some more," you winked at him, "One more round on me!"

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Tifa said gently. 

"Yeah, Y/N, you've had enough for tonight," Jessie patted your other shoulder.

"Why not? I thought we were having fun." Genuine confusion tinged your slurred voice. Guilt settled into the room. They should have never challenged you to drink so much. 

"I think we're just about ready to wrap things up," Biggs said. "Right everybody?" 

The whole room expressed agreement.

"Come on," Biggs wrapped an arm around your back, "I'll take you home." 

The rest of the group watched as he led you out the double doors of Seventh Heaven. 

“For someone who doesn't drink much, she can sure handle a lot," Wedge said, "She drank enough to kill a man." 

"You think she's gonna be ok?" Tifa added, taking the glasses back to the table. She smiled a little at the lipstick stains you had left on many of them.

"She'll be fine, Biggs is with her. He's such a worrier I bet he'll stay with her all night."

"He's got a thing for her, Y'know," Jesse spoke up, a childlike look of mischief graced her face.

"That's none of our business," Tifa turned around to look at her. 

"It is our business. They're our friends! Besides, he makes it so obvious! He talks about her all the time, and those stares? He's in love." 

"You should know not to stick your head where it doesn’t belong,” Barrett lifted a brow to the girl. He turned to Wedge, too. "The bar is closed, now both of you get out of here." 

Wedge and Jesse reluctantly left the venue, while Tifa stayed behind to clean up. Barret helped wipe down some of the tables as Tifa rinsed the glasses. They both worked in silence for a little while, enjoying the quiet that was so uncommon. Even Barrett, a loud man, could appreciate some silence once in a while. Especially when his team could be that loud, too. Eventually, though, the silence got a little uncomfortable, especially after what had just happened, so Barrett tried to lighten the mood. 

"New bar rule: Y/N doesn't get any drinks," he said

Tifa laughed softly. "Want me to put a sign up?" 

"She'll get a kick out of that once she's sobered up." 

—————

"It's so cold out here!" You said, wrapping your arms around your body.

"Your house is just around the corner," Biggs said, his own arm wrapped around your back to steady you. With how much you had drank that night, he thought you'd be staggering much more, but surprisingly, you held it together. For the most part, at least. 

"My house is cold, too! Can't afford fancy heating like all those Shinra suck-ups in the business quarters."

He laughed at your words. You never were one to like rich people; for you know what they did to get there. 

His heart skipped a beat when he felt your arms wrap around his torso.

"You're warm," you said.

"You're wasted." 

"Im not wasted, I'm just slightly inebriated," 

He shook his head and laughed, "We're almost there." 

The two of you reached your apartment, and you separated from him to get out your keys. Once you had them, you tried to unlock your door. Keyword: tried. You struggled for a few more seconds before the keys fell out of your hand. 

"I've got it," Biggs said, groaning as he bent down to pick them up. He was about to hold them out to you, when another voice froze him in place.

"Wait Y/N's got a man over? First time I've seen that happen! Go get some, girl!" Your neighbor yelled. You lived in the same complex as Jesse, and most of the girls there were, well, nosy. And vocal.

You froze in place, for even the alcohol running through your veins couldn't suppress the butterflies now filling your stomach. One thing the alcohol could do, though, was give you the balls to bite back.

"And you've got a new man every week!" You shouted.

Turning back to Biggs, you could see that his cheeks had warmed up the slightest. 

"Interesting neighbors," he chuckled. 

"Tell me about it."

You tried again to unlock the door, cursing when you had trouble. You couldn't get the key into the keyhole for the life of you. This was so embarrassing...

"I've got it," Biggs said, holding out his palm to you. 

You looked up at him, your mind taking a little too long to piece together what he was asking of you. You glanced into his eyes, admiring their warm brown color that you loved so much. You could get lost in them. And those eyebrows... you did have a thing for thick, sharp eyebrows. You didn't even realize you were staring.

He cleared his throat. 

"The keys?" He said, rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand.

"Oh," you jumped, quickly dropping them into the palm held out to you. 

"Slightly inebriated my ass," he chuckled, unlocking the door. 

"You've got nice eyebrows," you said, watching him open the door and hold it for you. It was not something you'd normally say, and this was one of the reasons you didn't like getting drunk. Because you had no filter. 

"Oh, so that's what you were looking at?"he grinned. 

"Maybe," 

Biggs closed the door behind him.

"Are you staying here tonight?" You put him on the spot, to which he froze. It didn't help that you were staring up at him, waiting for an answer. 

"I-uh, I just want to make sure you're safe. You don't usually drink this much, and I'm afraid to leave you. But if you're not comfortable, I'll leave. I just-" 

"You can stay," you told him, "I trust you." 

A small smile found its way on his lips. You trusted him. Being an overthinker, he often pondered his relationships. Especially yours. He liked you so much that he over-analyzed every word you said to him, every body language cue he could pick up on, and agonized over what your really meant. But this much was clear: You trusted him.

"Make yourself at home," you said, taking a pillow and blanket from your bed and placing it on the couch, "I'm gonna take my makeup off." 

He watched your gait as you walked into the bathroom. For a moment there, you almost looked sober. Until you tripped over nothing. 

He jumped up to help you, but stopped in place as you caught yourself on the doorway. 

"I'm good," you said to him, getting back up and walking into the restroom. 

Biggs took a sigh of relief before looking around your apartment. It was small, comprising of only one room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. Few decorations were placed here and there, giving the space a little bit of life. 

He glanced at the couch that sat a couple feet away from the side of your bed. Sitting down on it, he checked the comfiness of the cushions. He assumed that was where he was going to sleep. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but it wasn't terribly uncomfortable either. It would do for just one night.

"Hey Biggs?" You called.

He got up from the couch and followed your voice into the small bathroom. 

"What'cha need?" He asked, folding his arms over his chest. 

"I can't open this," you said, ashamed. Holding out the makeup wipes, you waited as he pulled one out for you. 

"Here," he held it out for you. 

You reached out to grab it, but it dropped out of your hand. 

"Crap, sorry." You said, "I'm such a useless drunk." 

"Everybody's a useless drunk," he said, taking another wipe from the container. He held this one out to you, and it slipped out of your hand again.

"Why don't I do it?" He suggested, taking out the third wipe and keeping it to himself this time. 

"Go ahead," you said. At first glance, though, he didn't know what was makeup and what was not. 

"You're gonna have to help me out on this." He began, "In all honesty, I didn't know you wore makeup. Well, besides lipstick." 

You laughed. "No offense, but men are idiots," 

"A little harsh, don't you think?" He smiled, before bending down to your face level. 

You could tell that him bending down this low wasn't comfortable, so you tried to prop yourself up on the counter. Keyword, again: tried. 

"Whoa, what are you doing?" He asked. 

"Trying to sit on the counter," you said, still struggling before he helped you up himself. "I didn't want you to hurt your back bending down like that." 

"Didn't take you for a caring drunk."

"I'm full of surprises." 

His face inched closer to yours as he analyzed your skin for makeup again. In all honesty, he didn't know what to look for. 

"Tell me where to wipe," He said, which earned another laugh from you. A small smile formed on his lips, he really loved your laugh. 

You pointed to your eyes and the skin under it, and then the skin around your nose as he watched intently. 

"Think you can handle that?" You asked him, to which he nodded.

He made his first wipe under your eye ever so gentle, as if he was afraid to hurt you. He hesitated, waiting for your look of approval before wiping the rest of your concealer away and then moving to your other cheek. 

The proximity of your faces kept you in a trance, along with his gentle touches. You didn't realize how attention starved you were until now, when you were receiving someone's full, undivided attention. 

He gently took hold of your chin, guiding your face up so that he could wipe the concealer away from around your nose. He bit his lip as he concentrated, which you took notice of. You had to admit, he was a beautiful man. A beautiful, respectful man with a kind heart and a passion of serving others. No wonder you had such a big crush on him. 

He moved his hand from your chin to cupping the side of your jaw, his touch soft as ever. Then, he began removing the day's eye makeup.

The first swipe he made, he looked down at the wipe in shock. Brown shadow and black mascara stained the small cloth, two things he'd never known you wore. Maybe men really were idiots, he thought before finishing your eyes.

"That it?" He asked. 

"Don't forget the lipstick," you said. 

"You're lipstick's gone,"

"Really?" You turned around to look in the mirror. 

"Yeah, you left it all over Tifa's shot glasses," he laughed. 

You found yourself joining him, you didn't even notice that your lipstick had worn away until now, you certainly didn't notice it while you were drinking. You were too distracted trying to win. 

Turning back around, you noticed him staring at you. 

"What?" You asked, before remembering he had never seen you without makeup before, "I look a little different without it, don't it?" 

He stared a moment longer, making your stomach flip. Was he shocked? Did you really look that bad? 

"You look beautiful, just like always,"

You stared up at him, and he up at you. You found yourself gravitated by his gaze, and you leaned forward a little. He looked down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. You couldn't believe it. Did he want to kiss you? 

Alcohol always made you do ballsy things, and this was one of them. You leaned forward more, closing the distance between your faces, and shut your eyes. 

Nothing happened. 

You fluttered your lids open to meet his shocked eyes. The color drained from your face. 

"I'm sorry," you got up from the counter and slid past him out the doorway. 

"Wait," he called, but you didn't listen.

"I shouldn't have done that, I-I'm sorry," You ran your hands through your hair, "this is why I don't get drunk. I always screw things up!" 

"Y/N," he said, now behind you. You couldn't face him. Not now, not ever. 

"I screwed up pretty bad, didn't I?" You fought desperately to keep from crying, from making this situation any more painful for the both of you. 

"You didn't screw up," 

"What?" You turned around and looked up at him, trying desperately to read his expression. 

"I've wanted to kiss you for as long as I've known you." 

"Then why didn't you?" 

"You're drunk, Y/N," he began, "I want to kiss you, but not like this. I don't want either of us to regret it." 

Looking up into his eyes, you couldn't believe it. You thought you had ruined everything. Biggs' friendship meant the world to you, and you couldn't handle screwing that up. 

"We should get you to bed," he finally said, and you agreed. 

The rest of the night was over in a flash. You had changed, brushed your teeth, and put your hair up all by yourself; you were pretty proud of that. Biggs made himself comfortable on your couch, or at least as comfortable as he could get on the small sofa. The tension in the air never let up, though. As hard as you both tried to act casual about what just happened, that didn't change the fact that it did, in fact, happen.

Curling up in your bed, you wondered how much you would regret drinking. You were already starting to, which wasn't a good sign. You mind went back to what he said earlier; would it still ring true in the morning? You hated to think it was an alcohol-fueled delusion. 

————————

You had never been in this much pain in your life. Well, at least since your last hangover. But that was a long time ago, you had almost forgotten how bad it felt. Thankfully, Biggs was getting some pain medication and water from your kitchen. The man was an angel.

You heard his footsteps come closer until they stopped, and then felt a warm hand on your shoulder.

"Hey," he whispered, careful not to worsen your headache, "I got your water and medicine,"

You slowly sat up, taking both the water and pills from his hands and downing them. Then, you chugged the rest of the water. 

"Thank you," you said, before curling back up into a ball, face pressed against your pillow. You couldn't wait for those pills to kick in. 

"Do you regret trying to out-drink Barrett?" He asked, amusement present in his soft tone. You felt the side of your bed dip down.

"What do you think?" 

A soft laugh escaped his lips, as he rubbed circles on your back. Your heartbeat quickened at the contact. How could a gesture so small, so casual make your stomach fill with butterflies. Touch was such a normal part of the team dynamic that it shouldn't have such an effect on you, and yet here you were freaking out about it because he, a touchy person, was touching you. With one final pat to your back, he got up from the bed and sat back on the couch. 

The two of you sat in silence as you waited for the medication to take effect. Luckily for you, it didn't take that long. Although it didn't fix all of your symptoms, you were grateful for the pain to subside. Eventually, you felt well enough to sit up. 

Biggs noticed this from his place on the couch. He had been writing on a few folded up papers he must have kept with him. Surely they were plans for tomorrow's mission, and it was very on brand for him to carry them around being the thorough perfectionist and chronic worrier that he was.

"You feeling better?" He asked. 

"A little bit," you sighed, before falling back into a silent spell. All you could think about was what you did last night, and what he said. Did he really mean it? Or was it just a white lie to satisfy a wasted friend? You should have never gotten drunk, then you wouldn't be in this situation. 

"Biggs?" You asked. He looked up from his sheet of paper. 

"Yeah?" 

"Thank you for helping me out last night. You're a good friend," you began, "And Im sorry for, y'know, what I did last night." 

"It's no problem, and don't sweat it." 

You regretted bringing it up, for the tension in the room could be cut by a knife. You glanced back at him; he was still working on his backup plans. He worked worked so hard on those plans that you wondered if he ever really slept. But you understood why; he wanted to see everyone come back alive and he would do whatever it took to assure that. Still, no matter how many plans he made, there was no guarantee that any of you would be safe. Tomorrow, any one of you could die. 

You had to know if he was serious last night. So much was at stake tomorrow, and you didn't want to die with regrets. Or worse, him die and you live with the regrets. 

"About last night," you began, waiting for his gaze to lift from the papers. "Did you mean what you said to me?" 

"Why?" 

"Look," you started, "I like you a lot. I always have. I need to know if you were serious."

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, time stood still. All you could see were those beautiful browns that held a certain intensity to them. His gaze silenced the fear in your heart. Without words, you knew his answer.

"I meant every word." 

You felt a small smile grace your lips, you couldn't help it. 

"Then prove it. I'm sober now." 

He stood up from the couch, making his way to your bed and sitting down. You looked to him, and him to you, before he took your face in his hands. Just like yesterday, his touch was so gentle, like he didn't want to hurt you. Then you felt the soft skin of his lips against your own. 

The kiss was slow and tender, and oh so perfect. Better than either of you had dreamed. The two of you had been silently pining for so long that the kiss felt like heaven on earth, the closest thing to paradise on this dying planet. 

You pulled away, still entranced by the kiss but needing to breathe, and placed your forehead against his. 

"Was that enough proof?" He asked, his voice a gravely whisper

"Plenty."


End file.
